stories and illustration

The Little Path of Flowers

I was told that at the top of the path that runs from Lennel up to the little cemetary there was an abundance of wild flowers, and since I am on the trail of this abundance this year especially, I took the walk through the lower wood, across the steep lane, then into the far wood, where in the spring the rooks have their nest in the trees by the river, and make the most stupendous noise. Today there are only a few desultory caw-caws. The path winds upward quite steeply and comes out beyond the trees, there is a clear spot where you can look down on to the Tweed, and there is the trail of the small path almost vanishing beneath the flowers (I dont think many people can walk this way):

I don’t know how long this lusciousness of wild flowers will last. I have noticed that at this time of year the paths are strimmed, so that whilst there is a lining of plants, this lush delicate growth is cut back to the margins. Of course, if the land was left untended, then nettles and docks and sorrel would take over, as has taken place just beyond the river on the other side of Coldstream Bridge, in Another Country.

I have been trying this year to capture these fleeting moments while I can. I have also taken pictures of individual plants, so that later in the year I can go through my photographs and recognise the individual species, so as to try and emulate, over a couple of years, the more than 150 different species I had written down as having seen when I must have been about ten years old. I can’t remember going out looking at flowers at all: if it wasn’t for a list at the back of a book I would hardly, consciously, recall this search at all, though I know it was my grandfather who took me out on Chailey Common in Sussex when I was very young, looking all round, and especially keeping an eye open for autumn gentians, that used to grow there – maybe still do.

I stopped by this bench, with its touching inscription:

And looked down over the Tweed, and the fields beyond, with the young wheat growing:

If I sit on the bench where Esme loved to sit I would have problems seeing the water, as the foliage is so dense. But it would be a lovely spot to sit anyway. I continue up the path, looking at the flowers on the way:

Until I come to the cemetary at the top of the path:

It is very peaceful up here. Some of the gravestones are too sad to photograph, so I took a picture of one celebrating the life of a couple who seemed to have had long lives, for their time, and a handsome gravestone to commemorate it, deep within the long grass:

And on the way back down the high road, to end on a cheerful note, I see this rose in the hedgerow, starting to fade at the edges here and there, as roses do, but a splash of lovely colour amid the green:

About

I’m Cara, and I live in Coldstream, in the Scottish Borders As well as writing and illustrating books for children I have recently been painting on canvas, in my octagonal studio (aka The Tardis) which inhabits a corner of the vegetable garden. My work for children has been published in several countries, and translated into different languages. My favourite form at the moment is the picture book, but I have also had published poetry, children’s novels, and illustrations for the work of other authors. I go out most days with my camera and create blog entries from the results. Some of the pictures I take will be used as background material for the picture book which I am working on at the moment. My son Matty set up this WordPress blog for me, and it has added a dimension to my life which surprises me. It is also interesting and inspiring to read the blogs of other people from different parts of the world, and to look at their sometimes fascinating pictures.